


Eos and Morpheus

by UlsPi



Series: It's all Greek to me (that is, Ineffable) [3]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, M/M, References to Ancient Greek Religion & Lore, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-03
Updated: 2019-11-03
Packaged: 2021-01-21 07:22:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21295700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UlsPi/pseuds/UlsPi
Summary: Aziraphale heard that Crowley had been born out of the darkness, long before the first light appeared. He heard that Crowley was the first of the gods and the quietest one. Aziraphale himself had been born of the very first ray of light.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: It's all Greek to me (that is, Ineffable) [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1534178
Comments: 6
Kudos: 66





	Eos and Morpheus

Aziraphale was the god of dawn. He was one of the minor but important ones which meant he was worshipped less and worked more. He didn't argue and didn't ponder over it too much, he had to start the day for everyone after all. He'd dip his pale-pink, skillful, tender fingers in the dark waters of sleepy seas, and the water would come to life, that is organised, clear, transparent life, not the chthonic movement of the waves at night, or the wanderings of terrible in their forms fish. He'd touch a tree, and the forests would wake up, forgetting the frightful shadows and lurkings of nocturnal animals and wicked spirits. Aziraphale couldn't really see the point of nights. Everything was scarier at night, everything seemed unknowable and chaotic. Some said it was the time of rest, but Aziraphale thought of rest as time spent with a good book and a plate of fruit or oysters and a goblet of fine wine. They said the nights belonged to Crowley, the good of sleep, who appeared in dreams in his human winged form. They whispered he'd bring nightmares if he felt like doing it and sweetest dreams if he was particularly generous. Aziraphale had never met him, he didn't attend the feasts that Aziraphale loved so much, he didn't attend the gatherings of the gods. They gossiped he preferred to sleep through the day. Aziraphale would think, to himself only, that Crowley was his enemy. Had it been up to Aziraphale, nobody would ever sleep and nobody would ever care for darkness. As it were, even the gods indulged in sleep and lovers largely preferred the nights, which was difficult to understand because how come not seeing your loved one's face was good for love?

Aziraphale heard that Crowley had been born out of the darkness, long before the first light appeared. He heard that Crowley was the first of the gods and the quietest one. Aziraphale himself had been born of the very first ray of light.

Each morning, lighting up the world and filling it with joy and life and clarity, Aziraphale looked warily around to check whether some mischievous shadow had hidden itself somewhere, and each morning he'd catch a glimpse of a lonely shore, black sand, sharp rocks, sleepy waters, and wonder if that was the abode of Crowley. Somehow he never dared approach the place, but sometimes its cool shade, its eternal, gloomy rest tempted him to either shine a light upon that desolate shore or just crawl there and curl up and sleep, as the rest of the gods did regularly. Sometimes, when he was sad and lonely, when he saw the vilest crimes committed by the daylight, he would come as close as he dared, which was still quite far, to the drowsy sands and then hurry back in fear. 

One morning, when his saddens couldn't be soothed by wine or food or books, when he was exhausted and felt the light within himself dim, he landed on the black sands and wept. He couldn't stand it anymore, couldn't stand the cruelty of both gods and humans, the wars, the slaughters, the rape, the murder, the mindless, restless urge to destroy or violate every good thing. His sobs grew louder and more desperate, yet his body felt a sudden calm and his eyelids grew heavier. Before he knew it, Aziraphale was fast asleep. 

He woke up at dusk and looked around in panic, unable to recognise the place. He felt something heavy laid upon his body and looked to see it was a warm blanket. There was softness under his head and it turned out to be a pillow, light and warm, both from the sun and his body.

"I'd never recommend to sleep like that, but it's your first time, so…" There was a spitting sound. Aziraphale jumped up and saw a tall, gaunt man in black clothes, his red hair and golden eyes with slit pupils aflame in the setting sun. He was eating dark, ripe cherries, spitting the pits aside, where they immediately sprouted and grew up into small trees and bowed and ran away. 

"I'm… I'm… so sorry I've trespassed," mumbled Aziraphale.

"No bother. You were weary and grieving. Sleep is the best medicine, you know, Aziraphale."

"How do you know my name?"

"You were the first to be born out of that proud light thingy. You gave me hope that it might still be of some good. Apparently, you are the only good to come out of it. And the plants. Love the plants. Big plants lover, me." Another spit, another grateful young tree running away. "Want some? You must be starving." He handed Aziraphale all the cherries he carried in his hand and pulled some more out of thin air.

"You are Crowley… Thank you. And thank you for the blanket and the pillow."

"Don't mention it. You need some good things to sleep properly. Even nightmares can be healing, Aziraphale, and what you have seen today was a nightmare I could never think of, not that I want to learn from it, mind you, and one's mind is full of enough atrocities to give me nightmares, were I not in charge of my dreams. Sorry, terribly talkative. Haven't had company in eons." Spit, tree, spit, tree. Aziraphale didn't know what to do with the pits in his hands. 

"Give me those," demanded Crowley and tossed them behind his back, where they quickly grew into a young orchard and scattered away. "Can't let them stay… They are noisy. Nice, indeed, but noisy. I want my slumbers undisturbed. It's the hour of my beginning. The hour I should get to work. You are welcome to stay, but it will rain soon, so you can sleep in my cave. See you later."

He opened his huge black wings and flew away.

Aziraphale quite liked the rain and especially the rainbows, but for now he was still half-asleep, so he walked into a hidden cave, cozy, with subtle fire, warm walls and soft pillows and duvets and blankets. He collapsed in the darkest corner and returned to sleep immediately. 

He was awoken by a gentle, barely there touch to his cheek. It tickled a bit too, and when Aziraphale opened his eyes, he saw Crowley's sharp face above him, his copper hair, long and slightly wet, falling over to Aziraphale's cheek and tickling him.

"Hello, Aziraphale. Soon you'll need to get to work. Glad you picked my favourite corner… Judging by the stars you have enough time to wash yourself and then you'll need to go."

Aziraphale got up rubbing his eyes. Crowley carelessly took his clothes off and walked away down a gallery Aziraphale hadn't seen before.

"If you care for a bath, it's this way," he heard an echo of Crowley's voice and followed it. Crowley sat in a naturally made bath, eyes closed, body covered in water and steam coming from it. 

"It's nice, Aziraphale, and big enough to avoid being too close for comfort," Crowley said without opening his eyes.

"Where are your wings?"

"Where they always are, behind my back. It's just that the size doesn't really matter. I'm merely a thought most of the night and thoughts, physically, are quite sizeless." Crowley shifted in the water sending ripples over to Aziraphale and turned around. His wings were now his skin, and much smaller for it. His spine was terribly obvious for how thin he was. Aziraphale gulped.

"Can I do that too?"

"Of course you can," said Crowley returning to his previous position. "Just concentrate."

Aziraphale did.

"Oh… oh… it feels nice."

"Of course it is. Relaxes your back and shoulders. Makes reclining much more comfortable. Winged creatures recline only when they are dead."

"I can't sleep like a bird…"

"I'm afraid you can't. Did you like it?"

"What?"

"Sleeping."

"I don't know. Crowley?"

"Yes?"

"Why did you cover me and brought me a pillow?"

"What sort of question is that? I'm not a monster, you know, and since it was your first sleep, I wanted to make you comfortable. Part of the trade, really." In the pale fire of the cave Aziraphale couldn't tell whether Crowley blushed or the flames were dancing in his cheeks.

"Why didn't I have dreams?"

"You were too tired and saw enough. Whatever you think, Aziraphale, I'm not a monster. Just repeat myself a lot."

"How can you know what I think?"

"Mind is like a harp with an infinite amount of strings. I see those which are aflame, with good or evil things, with love or fear. Yours have always been aflame with fear, and it's only natural that the god of dawn would feel threatened by the god of sleep."

"I don't feel threatened by you, but I was indeed afraid."

Crowley nodded and closed his eyes again. 

_ I want to dream about you. This is the only reason I will sleep again. _

"Not that everything was about fear, to be sure. Your strings are aflame and blindingly so, with love and care and just… sheer joy. It's remarkable, I must say."

***

Aziraphale walked out of the cave and flew to the nearest cloud. He touched it, feather light, barely there stroke of fingers, and the sky turned red, then pink, then yellow… He moved down to touch the waters and forests, and once the morning was properly arranged to shine in all its Glory, Aziraphale looked to the West, where the last shadows were catching on the many colours of the dawn, and caught a glimpse of a particularly stubborn and gray shadow, where Crowley's cave was. Aziraphale felt wistful and something heavy and sad settled in his chest. He went on spreading the morning colours all over the Earth and was unusually tired by the end of the day. He settled in his palace, in its darkest and warmest corner, wrapped himself in many blankets and closed his eyes. 

Crowley walked up to him, wings relaxed and eyes kind. "See you are giving it another go. You've been calling for me. Was it intentional?"

"Yes, quite… thank you."

"Pleasure."

"How long can you stay?"

"As long as you sleep."

"Don't you have… places, I mean, people to go to?" Aziraphale asked meekly.

"I'm going places and people right now, Aziraphale."

"Oh… and… and talking to everyone?" Aziraphale treaded carefully, but something new, something nauseatingly green began growing inside him.

"Nah. Haven't talked to anyone for such a long time… besides, I don't talk to humans. Ruins the whole divinity thingy." Crowley shrugged.

"And other gods?" The green light in Aziraphale grew brighter.

"Aziraphale, you really shouldn't be jealous."

"I'm not jealous, I'm just wondering!" Aziraphale blushed.

"I see you, Aziraphale, and you are not twisted enough to lie to me. No one is, especially not you." Crowley said it with conviction.

"So… is it like you can multiply yourself?" Aziraphale tried changing the topic.

"No, why would I? I just… I don't think I can explain it."

"It's Ineffable?"

"Ineffable? My, such words… But I guess you are right."

"Can I visit you again?"

"Our times are different, Aziraphale. I'm asleep when everyone else is awake and vice versa."

"But… but like that I can't eat cherries with you. Or drink wine. Or bathe."

"I can build you a dream about all of it."

"But it won't be you! Just a memory."

"Indeed… Still I don't think it's wise."

"Then I guess you should leave. Better end it now, if nothing comes of it." The red anger joined the green jealousy and they burnt together. Crowley even winced.

"But what do you want to come of it?" He asked.

"I can't know it, unless you let me meet you, the real you."

"What is the difference, Aziraphale?" Crowley asked it las if he had known the answer and was checking whether Aziraphale knew it as well.

"You look different. I feel you differently. You see, you have freckles and tiny imperfections of the kind, yet here and now you are the ideal image of a god, and that's… it's not you."

"Clever, sensitive Aziraphale… such a pleasure to have met you. How about you come with me now? You have about an hour before you need to begin your day, and oftentimes the last hours of sleep are dreamless… besides, I just set the mechanism on, pull the strings. Everything else is just… improvisation. At least with the people I like. Did you know that trees dream too?"

***

Aziraphale would come to Crowley's cave every day before noon. He'd watch him sleep, he'd study his fine features and patterns of freckles. How come anyone avoiding sun could have so many freckles? Crowley would each day wake up earlier, so that they could talk and eat and drink and bathe and swim in the dark sea. Aziraphale didn't notice any changes until they began eating at noon as well as in the evening together.

"I'm exhausting you, my dear, am I not?"

"Exhausting me? I'm a god, Aziraphale, I don't need to sleep… I just… anyway, how about we go look for oysters and make some soup?"

A few days later Aziraphale asked, "You just what, Crowley?"

"What?"

"You said the other day, about sleep…"

"Oh… here I am, holding you in the highest esteem, and you are cleverer than I thought still… my prec… whatever. See, I used to sleep because it was the best thing I could do. Now I have your company, so…"

Aziraphale's round, kind face melted into an absolutely smitten smile. "Oh my dear… oh thank you! Fish stew?"

Once the stew was ready, Crowley said, matter-of-factly, "You know, when I catch a fish, I always make its soul dream for a while… it's alive in its dreams, you see, and…"

Aziraphale couldn't even smile, he just sighed and looked at his counterpart so softly and with such understanding, that Crowley opted for drowning himself in the stew and definitely not in the sea-blue eyes of a fellow deity.

***

One day, in the afternoon, as Crowley was dowsing in his favourite corner while Aziraphale was telling him excitedly about a new vineyard he had found, Crowley mumbled, "One day, when they stop believing in us, when they learn to measure time without our help, when we are free… my darling Aziraphale, we will be free to do as we will." Aziraphale stopped talking and stared at Crowley, now fast asleep. 

"So much for me being more entertaining than dreams, my dear, really."

"It's different, Aziraphale," replied Crowley calmly, yet still asleep. "When I sleep with you… No… when I fall asleep next to you… no… I mean, when you are here, I can sleep because I'm… warm. Safe."

"Whoever is foolish enough to threaten you?" Aziraphale asked tucking a lock of Crowley's hair away from his closed eyes.

"It's not who threatens me, more like… who I feel threatened by and…" Crowley's voice was sleepier now. He sighed. "And that impossibly handsome bastard of dawn, the one who's been chasing me away for millenia, he stole my heart, took my breath away, shattered the very foundations of my… being… when he fell asleep on my sands. I hate it how much I love him…"

Maybe it was what Aziraphale wanted to hear, but was just as afraid to hear. Maybe it was that Aziraphale didn't like being called a bastard. Maybe something else, something just as ineffable as Crowley himself… Crowley tossed and turned in his sleep as Aziraphale was trying to silently leave, and said, "He'd be so scared, my darling love, had I told him something like that… but when we are free, I will… maybe I could even speed it up…" 

Aziraphale swallowed a sob and returned to Crowley, settling himself by his side and falling asleep with his arm around Crowley's lanky form.

***

It was indeed amazing how fast their progress, their development was. Astronomy, the study of the dark sky and bright stars, made Aziraphale unnecessary. But dreams… oh, they persisted, and for many a century Crowley wasn't free, yet he stopped sleeping anyway as soon as Aziraphale was free. They would still drink, eat, bathe and swim together, talk, laugh, occasionally touch, spend every moment they had in each other's company, until one day Crowley woke up and knew nobody needed him anymore. He took a deep breath and turned to look at Aziraphale, awake and watching him. "I felt it too, my dear."

"Oh… oh you wonderful, impossible, beautiful darling! We are free!" 

"And?" Aziraphale asked carefully. 

"And I'm about to finally kiss you so silly… if… if you want it, of course."

"Love, I do want it. Please, do kiss me silly! Do me silly."

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading.


End file.
